At the Going Down of the Sun
by Elea24
Summary: Tragedy befalls the ruling house of Dol Amroth and a young Lothiriel turns to her family for support.


**At the Going Down of the Sun**

Imrahil was pacing the floor of the large sitting room in his family's chambers. His head snapped up as he heard the tap at the door. At his command, a rather harassed looking nursemaid entered and looked at him apologetically.

"Forgive the intrusion at such a time, my lord, but I am at a loss as to what to do. Lady Lothίriel has become almost hysterical, screaming for her mother, and the only way I could calm her down was to bring her here."

Imrahil sighed. "It is all right, Maeriel. Bring her in. As you can see, her brothers were just as restless," he gestured to where his three sons were sitting pensively around the fireplace.

When Lothίriel entered the room she ran straight to her father, arms outstretched, tears streaking down her face as she sobbed, "I want Mama! I want Mama!"

Imrahil knelt down to her level and gently cupped her face in his hands, wiping away her tears with his thumbs. "Lothίriel," he said softly, "you know you cannot see your mother at present and tears will not be able to change that. You are long past your fifth year now and are about to be an elder sister. You must try and act sensibly to set a good example for your younger sibling." He smiled tenderly at her. "Do you think you can do that for me?"

Lothίriel nodded mutely, her chest still heaving with silent sobs. Another knock at the door came and Imrahil quickly stood up, bidding whoever it was to enter. It was one of his wife's attendants. The young woman briskly swept into the room, clearly distressed, and was about to speak when she noted the presence of the children and stopped herself abruptly. She swallowed before turning back to Imrahil.

"Excuse me, my lord, but there is a matter I needs must speak with you about."

Imrahil perceived the meaning of the look on her face immediately. "Very well, I shall join you in just a moment." He turned and looked pointedly at his eldest son. "Elphir, stay here and look after your siblings," his tone making it clear the matter was not negotiable and, with that, he swiftly strode out of the room.

At her father's abrupt departure Lothίriel started to cry again. She wasn't usually prone to fits of tears but everything was so confusing for her. Her father was acting strangely, she wasn't allowed to see her mother, everyone seemed so tense and she didn't really understand what was happening.

Elphir scooped her up into his arms and sat down in an armchair, securing her on his lap. "I want Mama," Lothίriel quietly sobbed.

"I know you do, Sister," was all he said in reply as he soothingly stroked her hair.

Erchirion was rocking pensively on his chair, lost in his thoughts. Amrothos, sitting opposite him, was finding the current situation hard to deal with and wasn't sure what to do or expect. He sat pale and agitated, looking to his elder brothers for guidance.

"Do you think something serious has happened?" Amrothos questioned, worry etched across his face.

An uneasy glance flashed briefly between Elphir and Erchirion.

"Birthing is a complicated thing," said Elphir. "The child has come much earlier than expected and that can sometimes lead to difficulties."

"But don't worry," said Erchirion, noticing the frightened look in Amrothos's eyes, "Mother has done this before without any problems, as we are all testament to. With any luck we shall have a new sibling in a few hours."

Amrothos glanced over at Lothίriel, still sobbing in Elphir's lap. "I don't think the baby will want to arrive with _her_ making such a noise," he said disdainfully, needing an outlet for his frustration.

His brothers couldn't help chuckling at that comment. Lothίriel stopped crying and frowned at him. She hadn't heard exactly what he had just said but she was sure it was aimed at her and that it wasn't particularly nice. In retaliation she stuck her tongue out at him.

Amrothos would usually have laughed at such a gesture but in his current mood it simply aggravated him. "Grow up, Lothίriel, and start acting like a proper lady!" he yelled.

"Amrothos," Elphir sternly interjected.

"I am a proper lady!" Lothίriel shouted. "You're just a silly boy, what would you know about ladies?" She put her hands on her hips in a gesture that imitated her mother. Lady Caladwen often assumed the pose when she reprimanded her children.

"I am not a boy!" Amrothos said hotly.

"Well you don't pass for much of a girl," Erchirion added ruefully, unable to resist.

"I _mean_, I am nearly eleven years old! I'm practically grownup. Unlike you, Lothίriel. You're still a baby."

Elphir and Erchirion did their best to hide their amusement. Growing up was a sensitive business, after all. Especially when you looked up to two elder brothers and wanted to be able to do all the things that they could do.

Lothίriel looked at Amrothos blankly. She knew he was only five years older than she and that wasn't a lot but then, eleven did seem quite old to her. As it was, the concept of age was rather relative for her. Amrothos sometimes played with her so he seemed more her age whereas Elphir and Erchirion, at eighteen and fifteen respectively, were very grownup in her mind. Her parents of course were "old" and her grandfather, being even older than that, was happily classified in her mind as "very old".

She did not like Amrothos's comment about her being a baby, however, and so retorted back, "You are only five years older than me and girls grow up faster than boys. Maeriel told me so."

"Enough!" said Elphir firmly. "We are all distressed and you are both understandably upset but that is no excuse for you to start squabbling. Like our father just said, you both need to set a good example for our new brother or sister."

"I'd rather it be a brother. One sister is _definitely_ enough," Amrothos said emphatically, glaring at Lothίriel. "And at least I could teach him how to do things."

"What about you, Lothίriel? Would you like a sister to teach things to?" Erchirion asked, grasping at the lighter turn of the conversation.

Lothίriel sat and thought for a moment before slowly shaking her head. "No," she said quietly, "I don't want a sister."

"Any reason why?" Erchirion probed.

"Mama says that I'm special. If she has another girl then I won't be special anymore." She looked at her brothers sorrowfully. "They might not love me anymore, They might love the baby more than me." She burst into tears again, curling into the protective crook of Elphir's arm.

"Lothίriel, listen to me," Elphir said softly, gently rubbing her back. "You are very special. Not because you are the only girl but because of the person that you are. We all love you very much and nothing can, or will, ever change that. A new sibling means that there will be one more person for you to love and who will love you in return."

Lothίriel listened, soothed by his words but still fearful of the unknown changes that threatened to take place. Of course her family loved her but what if the baby changed things? What if they liked the baby more? Would she get pushed out? Being the youngest and the only girl meant that she was doted upon by not only her brothers but also her parents and grandfather. She had never been spoilt, or raised in a way that made her exceptionally selfish or self-centred, but she was protected, cherished and loved and she didn't like the idea that something could take that away from her.

"I love you, too," she said looking up at Elphir, "but I don't want there to be a baby."

At that moment the door flew open and in stepped Adrahil, Prince of Dol Amroth. His imposing figure marched over the threshold and quickly closed the door, but not before they all heard the heart-wrenching cries coming from further down the corridor. It was their mother's voice. Not a cry of physical pain but a terrible cry of anguish and grief.

Amrothos and Erchirion immediately leapt up from their seats, Elphir quickly placed Lothίriel on her feet before doing the same.

"What is it, my lord?" All three brothers stared at their grandfather intently, desperate for answers.

"Your father wishes to speak with you, boys. Go to him now. I shall stay with your sister." Adrahil's tone brokered no argument. Whatever had happened, it was not to be discussed in front of Lothίriel.

* * *

"I want to see Mama," Lothίriel said quietly as she sat on her grandfather's lap, resting her head on his shoulders. His arms were around her, one hand stroking her hair, the other on her back.

"You cannot see her just yet, little one. Your mother is not well and her labour has left her exhausted."

"Do I have a sister or a brother?"

Adrahil sighed, resigned to being the bearer of distressing news that Lothίriel would find hard to understand. "Your mother delivered a daughter…but…the child died soon after she was born. Do you understand what it is when someone dies, Lothίriel?".

Lothίriel nodded. "It is when someone goes away and you cannot see them again. Except, Mama says that perhaps you can in the next life," she recited calmly, repeating the little she had grasped of the concept.

Adrahil smiled sadly, looking down at his granddaughter's drawn and worried face. For all that she was a lively and happy child, she was ever practical and this rational assessment of death was typical of her discerning mind. It was some surprise then to Adrahil when Lothίriel suddenly started sobbing pleadingly, almost desperately, in his lap, her little body shaking furiously, wracked with tears.

Adrahil held her close, waiting for her tears to abate. Eventually she calmed and looked up at him with an anguished expression.

"I think I made the baby go away," she whispered.

Adrahil's brow furrowed as he scrutinised her tearstained face. "What ever would make you think such a thing?"

"I said I didn't want a sister. I said I didn't want there to be a baby," she said guiltily. "But I didn't mean it! I didn't really want the baby to go away. I am sorry! I didn't mean it!" she dissolved into tears again, clutching at his tunic.

"Lothίriel," Adrahil said calmly, after a long pause, "do you remember when Ephedil had her puppies?"

Lothίriel sucked in a shuddering breath and nodded.

"Do you remember that their was one of her litter that was very small? It was too small and it could not survive." He waited to feel her head move slightly in assent before he continued. "Sometimes, sadly, that is the nature of things. Your sister was too little, she was born too soon and could not survive in this world. Perhaps she was not meant for this life, but destined to go straight on to the next. It is not for me to say. What I do know is that it is in no way your fault. I know you well, child. You may have been scared of the changes that a new sibling would bring but you are not malicious. You would have shown your sister as much love and affection as you give to your brothers. Do you understand me, Lothίriel? Are you listening to what I am saying?"

Lothίriel looked trustingly up at him, her eyes wide and glassed, and nodded.

"Death is not a punishment on the living. It may sometimes feel like that but it is simply a part of life. Some are taken more quickly to the next life than others. I cannot tell you why, for it is beyond my ability to answer. We mourn those that leave us, we cherish their memory and are thankful for the time that we have spent with them." He gently started to rock her in his arms. "And we _live_, Lothίriel. We live our lives, to the best of our ability, in honour of them."

* * *

Before the dawning of the next day, Lady Caladwen, wife of Imrahil, had died. The amount of blood she had lost had been substantial and many were of the opinion that the grief of losing her child had made her even weaker.

The funeral was attended by everyone in the city and many people beyond. It was a moving, touching tribute to the life of a woman who was widely loved and admired, but Lothίriel would remember very little of it. When she had been told that her mother had died she had cried almost solidly for three hours. With her little body wracked with tears all that could be done was for her nursemaid, Maeriel, to hold her closely and rock her on her lap. She hadn't cried since. No more tears would come. Lothίriel vaguely wondered whether there was a reserve of tears, and whether she had used all hers up.

She did not fully understand what had happened. It had seemed to pass her by whilst all the adults ran around, making themselves busy, their faces pale and drawn. She wanted to help, but she didn't know how and no one seemed to want to tell her. The one thing Lothίriel did know was that her mother was gone. And she wanted her to come back.

Since her mother's death she had seen little of her father. Imrahil spent most of the lead up to the funeral locked away in his chambers. The only person who saw him was his father, who spoke little but provided a soothing, understanding presence. Of her brothers, Amrothos, in particular, was finding his grief difficult to deal with. He lashed out at anyone near him, in pain and anger. His elder brothers did their best to comfort him and tried to keep him busy, including him in all their activities.

Lothίriel had stood still and silent throughout the funeral service. As it came to an end, and people started to move away, her grandfather came and stood beside her in silence for several minutes, his hand placed gently on her shoulder.

"You need to brave for your mother's sake, Lothίriel," he said eventually. "You are the lady of the house now and your father will need you to look after him."

Others perhaps, may have found such a comment to a five-year-old girl who had just lost her mother to be rather insensitive. But Adrahil knew his granddaughter well. He realised that what she needed now was the ability to put her practical sensibilities to good use, to feel that she was useful and needed. It did not matter that her tender years meant that, in actuality, she could do very little. What mattered was for Lothίriel to feel secure in the knowledge that she had an important roll to play in her family.

Lothίriel stood in thought for a long time until she finally turned to look up at him, taking his large hand in her own small one. "Yes, Grandfather, I will. I will look after you and father and my brothers for Mama." Her large, round innocent eyes had a pain in them that almost broke Adrahil's heart to see. But they also had a determination in them; a strength. It would be hard for her to grow up without a mother, but with the love and support of her family she would cope, and she would live her life in a way that would make her mother proud. Adrahil had no doubt of that.

* * *

Many thanks to NancyBrooke for the beta.


End file.
